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life of the party
There are a lot of things I love about Avengers fandom, but I'd forgotten how much a fandom this size can make you feel insignificant.
It's like -- with very small fandoms, you might be shouting into the void, but there are a few people out there who will eventually hear you, and they'll be really happy to hear you.
Large fandoms are like big parties, except everyone's talking at once and you always seem to show up when the interesting conversations are wrapping up. Or you open your mouth and forget all the clever things you meant to say and it's all blah, or when you do say something, no one really responds.
So you wander over to the buffet, and you brought some pie to the party, because you love pie, everyone loves pie, and you just started baking but it seems like it's going well - maybe a little too much salt in the crust, but it's still delicious pie. But everyone's off eating the elaborate, delicious three-tier cake down the way - and it's good cake, that's fair, you ate some too, but now all anyone's talking about is the cake and the one they made for the last party and the cake they're making for the next one. And you're left with this pie that you're pretty proud of that maybe a couple of people tried, and maybe one of them left you a nice note and that's awesome, it really is, but pie is meant to be shared. You can't eat a whole pie by yourself.
So you try the garden to see if anyone's interested, and everyone's running around in pretty costumes and masks and giggling like crazy, and you're impressed! Everything's so shiny! But you never learned how to do that sort of thing, and when you try to talk to anyone, they're talking half in pantomime and half in code, and you kinda just want to sit down and have a conversation in complete sentences with someone who likes pie.
Those people are probably somewhere at the party - on the landing, or in the kitchen, or maybe hiding out in the library with the good tequila - but you can't find them, and you have a sneaking suspicion that even if you do find them it'll be a terrible replay of your last attempt to talk to people.
Eventually, you catch up with the people you came to the party with, and they're all oh hey, we're heading off to this other fandom party now, are you coming? But you're not quite ready to leave yet, so you tell them go ahead, because you *do* want them to have fun, really. You just also kinda wish that at least one person's idea of fun was staying and talking to you.
And then you end up on your own, gorging yourself at the buffet until you're sick of everything, and wondering how, after a decade of going to parties, you still suck at them so much.
...Wow, this turned into a super self-pitying lament about metaphorical pie that I will probably regret in the morning.
It's like -- with very small fandoms, you might be shouting into the void, but there are a few people out there who will eventually hear you, and they'll be really happy to hear you.
Large fandoms are like big parties, except everyone's talking at once and you always seem to show up when the interesting conversations are wrapping up. Or you open your mouth and forget all the clever things you meant to say and it's all blah, or when you do say something, no one really responds.
So you wander over to the buffet, and you brought some pie to the party, because you love pie, everyone loves pie, and you just started baking but it seems like it's going well - maybe a little too much salt in the crust, but it's still delicious pie. But everyone's off eating the elaborate, delicious three-tier cake down the way - and it's good cake, that's fair, you ate some too, but now all anyone's talking about is the cake and the one they made for the last party and the cake they're making for the next one. And you're left with this pie that you're pretty proud of that maybe a couple of people tried, and maybe one of them left you a nice note and that's awesome, it really is, but pie is meant to be shared. You can't eat a whole pie by yourself.
So you try the garden to see if anyone's interested, and everyone's running around in pretty costumes and masks and giggling like crazy, and you're impressed! Everything's so shiny! But you never learned how to do that sort of thing, and when you try to talk to anyone, they're talking half in pantomime and half in code, and you kinda just want to sit down and have a conversation in complete sentences with someone who likes pie.
Those people are probably somewhere at the party - on the landing, or in the kitchen, or maybe hiding out in the library with the good tequila - but you can't find them, and you have a sneaking suspicion that even if you do find them it'll be a terrible replay of your last attempt to talk to people.
Eventually, you catch up with the people you came to the party with, and they're all oh hey, we're heading off to this other fandom party now, are you coming? But you're not quite ready to leave yet, so you tell them go ahead, because you *do* want them to have fun, really. You just also kinda wish that at least one person's idea of fun was staying and talking to you.
And then you end up on your own, gorging yourself at the buffet until you're sick of everything, and wondering how, after a decade of going to parties, you still suck at them so much.
...Wow, this turned into a super self-pitying lament about metaphorical pie that I will probably regret in the morning.
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